


Purkinje Lights Phenomenon

by shut_the_jongup



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Fluff, M/M, banghim, daejong, daeup, im not even sure tbh, little bit of kissing? i think?, younglo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 16:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10441584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shut_the_jongup/pseuds/shut_the_jongup
Summary: Suddenly more laughter fills the room, and everyone turns to stare at Daehyun, who is  still in the same position. “Sorry,” he apologizes, not sounding sorry at all, “it’s just–” he whistles, “nice glasses.” (prequel to "Freudian Slip")





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to "Freudian Slip", so I would recommend reading that first. Basically Daeup's backstory, kinda. :)

In all his three years with the same pair of glasses, never has Jongup ever so much as scratched them. Which is why it makes sense that it’s not him who steps on them, snapping the right temple cleanly off. Rather, it is his roommate, Junhong, who begins to profusely apologize as soon as Jongup returns from his morning shower. But of course, Jongup can’t really see, so he has no idea what Junhong is holding in his hands as he approaches him, saying he’s so sorry and that he’ll pay for the damage.

“I just didn’t notice I had knocked them off of the table and then when I got out of bed my foot just–”

“Junhong, calm down,” Jongup pulls open the top drawer of his dresser. “What the hell happened in the ten minutes I was gone?” He rummages through the clothes, looking for a clean t-shirt and jeans. He finds the jeans alright, an old washed out pair with holes in the knees, but he can’t find a plain t-shirt for the life of him.

“Well, uh, do you have a spare pair of glasses?”

The question confuses Jongup as he looks up from pulling his jeans on, squinting in Junhong’s direction. “What? Of course not. Why would I need a spare? You know I’m careful with them. I don’t even wear them for dance.”

“I still don’t know how you manage that,” Junhong mumbles, momentarily distracted.

“So what is it that happened again?” Jongup pulls a white knit cardigan from another drawer and slips it on over an undershirt.

“Oh! Right…” Junhong eyes his hands, which are holding the broken frames.

“Make it quick, man, I have to leave,” Jongup slides a jacket on and starts with the laces on his sneakers. “Where did I put my glasses?”

Junhong winces at the question as all hopes of Jongup not noticing their absence float away, disappearing into the clouds just like his grades in chemistry.

“Um, I have them.”

Jongup rises from his chair as he finishes the tie on his shoe and squints at Junhong again. “What? Why? Are you trying to play a dumb joke on me or something?”

“They’re broken.” Junhong bites his lip. Jongup has never been the type to get angry and lash out, but he does this _thing_ whenever something’s bothering him or he’s annoyed, which involves a lot of quiet looks and foot tapping, and Junhong is praying he doesn’t have to deal with that today.

“What do you mean they’re _broken_?” Jongup stops his movements as he’s grabbing his bag from the floor, trying to stuff his textbooks inside. Junhong notices they’re the wrong ones, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I, um, they must’ve somehow gotten on the floor last night, and when I got up I kind of stepped on them.” He holds his breath, but Jongup just sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair.

“How bad is it? Can I still wear them?”

“Uh, probably not…like, half of it broke off.” Junhong examines the two pieces in his hands again, trying to see if there’s a way to fit them together. “You could probably, like, tape them or something. Temporarily, I mean.”

Jongup sighs again. “I really have to go. Like, now. You think you could try to patch them together again while I’m at class? I only have two lectures today, so I should be back within the next few hours.”

“Sure,” Junhong says, releasing a sigh of relief through his nose, only to gasp as Jongup promptly runs into his desk and trips, managing somehow to catch himself on the chair.

“Please be careful,” he squeaks. “I could go with you, I’m so sorry by the way, I just–”

“Junhong, shush. I’ll be fine,” and with that Jongup is out of the room, leaving Junhong alone with a pair of broken glasses and a mission to find tape.

“I should pray for him,” he mutters.

* * *

 

Jongup is always late.

In his defense, most dance majors don’t have much motivation to make it to their history classes on time. It’s a good thing he’s already halfway through the semester and has his route memorized, because without his glasses, Jongup usually has virtually no idea where he’s going. (Not that he’s any good with directions otherwise.)

The door to the classroom is, surprisingly, still open when Jongup arrives at the third floor of the building, having almost fallen down the stairs by missing steps nearly a dozen times. He considers himself lucky that he knows at least one person in this class: a senior named Youngjae, who’s getting his history credit out of the way so that he can dedicate his last semester of college to his musical education major.

Upon entering the room, Jongup immediately spots a vaguely Youngjae-shaped blur, and hurries over to sit next to him.

“We didn’t have homework, right?” Jongup slides into the desk next to his friend. When he receives no response, he glances over to see the other boy hunched over a paper, scribbling something down furiously, and Jongup knows Youngjae is a great multi-tasker, so he just keeps talking, knowing that the older will comment when he’s finished with whatever it is he’s doing.

“You’ll never guess what happened this morning,” he went on as he pulled his notebook from his bag. “Apparently Junhong somehow managed to step on my glasses while I was in the shower, so I’m gonna have to visit the optician this week. You’re gonna have to drive me there, too, you know.” Jongup is never really this talkative, but he has so much energy this morning, and he’s not really sure why. Maybe the adrenalin of not being able to see clearly is hitting him? Does that happen? “Oh, did I tell you about my assignment for theatre dance? We have to dance a _metaphor; h_ ow the fuck do you dance a _metaphor_ ? We got our assignments yesterday and apparently I’m choreographing a sex dance, which would be fine, but I don’t know how to _do_ that,” he complains, throwing his hands up into the air. “Like, what, are Junhong and I supposed to pretend to be curtains blowing in a gentle breeze next to an open window? That’s the only metaphor for sex I can even think of! Also, apparently our professor is choosing one pair to perform next month in the musical during the said ‘metaphorical sex scene’ and I honestly have an urge to completely bomb this assignment just so she doesn’t pick us. ‘Cause, well, you know…” Jongup trails off, looking back to Youngjae. “Hey, Youngjae, are you not even gonna sympathize with me?”

“Huh?”

Wait.

_Wait._

“…you’re not Youngjae.” Jongup states it as less of a question and more of an assumption, because he knows Youngjae’s voice, and the one he’s hearing is _not_ it.

“Youngjae isn’t here, he came down with a fever this morning.”

“Oh.” It takes Jongup a minute to process the information.

“ _Oh,_ I’m so sorry, I was just ranting at some random person about my awkward dance major struggles, wasn’t I?”

“I don’t mind.”

Jongup can see the other shrug his shoulders, but he still can’t make out the details of his face.

“If you don’t mind me asking…um, who are you? And how did you know Youngjae was sick?” Jongup cringes at the awkward way with which he phrases the question.

“Do you not recognize me?” The boy sounds surprised, and maybe a little offended. “I’ve been in this class all semester. I literally always sit near you two. We’ve talked before.”

“Have we?” Jongup reaches up to push his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, only to remember that they aren’t there, and awkwardly puts his hand on the desk instead. “I’m sorry, I don’t have my glasses on, so I can’t really see you clearly from here.”

“Jeez, how bad is your vision? I’m, like, five feet away from you,” the other boy folded his arms across his chest.

“Pretty bad. I can kinda see you, but I apparently can’t distinguish you from Youngjae.”

“Hm. I guess we would look pretty similar if we were blurred out and put next to each other. I’m his roommate, by the way. He refused to leave his bed this morning.”

They don’t talk after that, because soon the professor is coming in and setting up the slideshow for the day’s class. Jongup turns to face what he’s positive is the front of the room and braces himself for 2 hours of learning nothing and taking zero notes.

 

Luckily the class ends about half an hour early today, and he soon finds himself packing his things and standing to head out when the boy from earlier speaks up.

“You should really go for it, you know,” the boy from before says, standing up from his seat.

“Sorry?” Jongup turns around. “What did you say?”

“I thought you were blind, not deaf,” he laughs at his own joke.

“Very funny,” Jongup drawls, obviously not amused. “I happen to have great hearing. Makes up for the crappy vision, I guess.”

“I mean for your weird sex dance thingy. You should try to get into the musical with it.”

Jongup raises an eyebrow. “Why would I want to do that? I’ve never acted in my life.”

“Dancing _is_ acting, you dumbass,” Youngjae’s roommate says with a laugh, “you can’t dance without it.”

Jongup shrugs. “I guess…but I don’t know, big productions like that aren’t really my thing.”

“You’re a dancer, of course big productions are your thing.” the boy smiles lopsidedly at him, but Jongup can barely make the expression out.

“Eh” is his only response. “I’ve gotta run, sorry. I need to see how the surgery is going.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“On my glasses,” Jongup explains briefly, brushing off the concern. “My roommate is trying to temporarily mend them.”

“Ah…um, okay then…”

And with that, Jongup is out the door, leaving a very mystified boy in his wake.

* * *

 

“Where the hell did you even _get_ electrical tape?” Jongup passes his glasses from one hand to another, tugging at the joints to test the strength of the new, temporary binds.

“I just asked the janitor,” Junhong explained. “She’s so nice, though I could have gone without the cheek pinching,” he rubbed circles into his face where there were still visible marks. “Her nails were so _long_ ,” he whines.

“Oh, the things you do for me,” Jongup says sarcastically as he tries to put the glasses on. They’re a little lopsided, but it’ll do until he can guilt Youngjae into taking him to the optician. The first thing he sees clearly that day is Junhong, who’s obviously trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jongup raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry–it’s just,” Junhong giggles. “You look so funny.”

Jongup rolls his eyes. He knows he must look ridiculous wearing his thick framed glasses, held together by white electrical tape. “Whatever. As long as I can see, I don’t really care.”

“When are you gonna get them fixed?”

“Dunno,” Jongup leans against the wall next to his bed, folding his arms across his chest. “Depends on when Youngjae gets back on his feet.”

Suddenly Junhong looks very concerned. “Youngjae? Did something happen? Is he sick? Is he okay? I swear, if someone tried to hurt him…”

Jongup gives his roommate an amused look as he clenches his fists. Oh, he knows all about Junhong’s little crush, even if the other has never directly mentioned it. It's pretty obvious. “He’s fine, chill. Came down with a fever this morning, apparently.”

“We should go visit him!” Suddenly Junhong is on his feet, prancing around the room, and Jongup wonders if bothering someone who’s sick takes on some special, exciting property when you like them.

“Visit him? And what, give him soup?” Jongup folds his arms across his chest. “You know Youngjae, he probably wants to be left alone.”

“No one should be alone when they’re sick,” Junhong pouts.

 _Oh god,_ Jongup thinks. _Here comes the look_.

Junhong’s eyes get wide and shimmery, in a way Jongup used to think was only possible in the anime he watches. That is, until he met his roommate, apparently. Junhong’s lips puff out adorably, and Jongup tries to look away, closing his eyes. “You know,” he says, sounding irritated, “you don’t need me to chaperone you; why are you giving me that look when you could just go on your own?”

Junhong looks down, his cheeks flushing a little bit. “I don’t wanna go alone,” he says quietly.

“Aww, you get so shy whenever you talk about him,” Jongup says, reaching out to pat the top of Junhong’s head.

The other immediately ducks out from his reach, denials spilling quickly from his mouth.

“Oh, come on, let’s just go.” Jongup stands and grabs Junhong’s wrist, rolling his eyes. “I need to let him know he’ll be driving me into town eventually, anyway. Might as well be now.”

Junhong’s face breaks into a grin, and he takes the lead down the hall as Jongup closes the door behind them.

“You have too much power over me,” the latter sighs, speed-walking to catch up.

“Nah, you just give in too easily,” Junhong says briefly.

 

Youngjae’s room is two floors above theirs, the 4th, so it doesn’t take them long to jog up the chilly stairway (it’s not heated like the rest of the building for whatever reason) and make it to his door.

As soon as they get there, however, Junhong is hanging back, hovering just behind Jongup.

“What are you doing?” Jongup questions, and gestures towards the door. “You’re the one who wanted to see him, go ahead.”

But Junhong just swallows, shaking his head a little nervously. “Am I gonna come off as too eager?”

Jongup sighs.

“I mean, what if he thinks it’s creepy? I don’t want him to–” Junhong breaks off in a squeak as Jongup knocks on the door a few times, hard enough to shake the frame a bit.

There’s a muffled thump and then a curse of “Jesus Christ” from the other side, and footsteps approach the door. Junhong gives Jongup a small glare, to which the other simply shrugs and flashes him a pretty smile, and steps out from behind him. “You’re the girl in our sex dance,” he shoots at him.

Jongup rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be–” but he’s cut off when the door swings open slowly to reveal a _very_ rumpled looking Youngjae.

“What?” he croaks tiredly, leaning back against the doorframe.

Jongup’s eyes widen because, well, shit. Youngjae is a mess. He’s not wearing pants, first of all–just a ratty yellow hoodie that’s a few sizes too big and manages to hang below his thighs. His eyes are squinted as if he’s been living in a dark hovel all his life, and his hair– _oh god._

“We–” Jongup pauses, giving him another once-over. “–please tell me you have underwear on,” Jongup says amusedly, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t miss the dusting of pink that falls on Junhong’s cheeks as Youngjae lifts his hoodie to reveal a pair of bright blue boxers and gives them a quizzical look.

“Good.” Jongup nods, satisfied.

“What do you want? Just trying to break down my door?” Youngjae folds his arms across his chest. “I was in the middle of suffering, and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to–”

“Youngjae?” Suddenly a new voice breaks into the conversation.

Junhong blanches. “Huh? You’re roommate is here? Why didn’t _he_ open the door? You should be in bed, resting!”

Jongup glances over at his friend, giving him a strange look.

“Because, unlike some of us,” Youngjae laments, “he is a lazy asshole who doesn’t give a shit about caring for his friends when they’re sick,” he jabs, glancing back into the dark room where the light of a desk lamp illuminates the side opposite his.

“I didn’t even hear the knock!” The voice complains.

“ _How?_ ” Youngjae asks, incredulous and gesturing wildly. “It _shook the fucking room!”_

“I was focused, okay? This number is _really_ important, and if I don’t have it memorized by Thursday–” there’s a rolling of wheels and a figure appears, sitting in a desk chair with a laptop seated in his lap and headphones around his neck. “–oh!” He laughs. “Here to make Youngjae drive you into town? I think his taxi service is out of commission for now,” he jokes.

“Oh, shut up and listen to your dumb musical shit, Daehyun,” Youngjae quips.

_Daehyun. It was that guy in Jongup and Youngjae’s history class. Right, his roommate._

“Actually–”

Junhong interrupts Jongup before he has a chance to explain. “I–we wanted to check on you,” he says, peering at Youngjae’s face. “Heard you weren’t feeling well…”

Youngjae blinks at him.

Suddenly more laughter fills the room, and everyone turns to stare at Daehyun, who is  still in the same position. “Sorry,” he apologizes, not sounding sorry at all, “it’s just–” he whistles, “ _nice_ glasses.”

Jongup’s expression flattens. “Ah, yes well, at least I can see again. Well enough to land a good hit to your face, I think.” he says sweetly, making sure to flex his arms as he steps closer to Daehyun. “Wanna see how well they work?” His tone is quiet and drops several octaves. He notices the way the other’s eyes widen a little bit and how his throat constricts when he swallows.

Youngjae snorts weakly. “What’s gotten into you?” He looks over at Jongup. “Is this your new way of making friends? By intimidating them?”

Jongup shrugs, his face blank again.

 

No one can tell if he’s being serious or not.

 

“Anyway.” Junhong clears his throat. “ _You’re_ getting back into bed.” He ignores the yelp of surprise when he grabs Youngjae’s bicep and lugs him into the room, picking him up and placing him carefully onto the mattress.

“Thanks, but I think I could have managed that,” Youngjae says, pulling the sheets over his body and immediately closing his eyes.

Junhong coos and tucks the comforter around Youngjae’s form, totally giving the boy an indirect but _really direct_ hug.

Jongup averts his gaze to leave them to it, but feels the pull of a pair of eyes on him. He turns to look at Daehyun, who jumps a little at the quick action.

Jongup cocks his head to the side. “I’m not actually gonna punch you, if that’s why you’re staring at me,” he says. “I’m a pretty peaceful being.”

Daehyun looks skeptical at first but then shrugs. “You’re weird.” He doesn’t tell him that he was just staring at his biceps. The image of the muscle flexing up close would be forever seared into his mind.

“Yeah,” Jongup agrees.

He recognizes Daehyun now. He was a double major in theatre and voice, very well known for his roles on stage. He remembers now sharing a few classes in the music and arts building with him.

Jongup rolls his eyes when Junhong starts cooing again over how adorable his “baby-jae” is or whatever. He probably forgot the other two were there.

“I’m sorry about that,” Jongup says suddenly.

“Huh? About what?”

“Um, threatening you. That doesn’t usually happen.”

“Oh,” Daehyun nods. “Have a rough day?”

Jongup scoffs a little. “I haven’t been able to see a thing since last night,” he says. “Don’t you think that would be a little frustrating?”

“He really likes Youngjae, doesn’t he?” Daehyun changes the subject. “Your friend over there. What’s his name again…”

“Junhong?” Jongup fills in. “Yeah, little bit.”

“That’s cute,” Daehyun says quietly, placing his laptop and headphones away on his desk. He looks up at Jongup, who’s still standing awkwardly by the door. “Do you wanna sit down or something while they–” he pauses and glances across the room, “–do whatever it is they’re doing?”

“I’m okay.”

Daehyun shrugs. “Suit yourself. Is he your roommate?”

Jongup nods.

“He’s a dance major like you, right? I think I’ve seen him around before.”

Jongup nods and looks out the window. It’s getting dark.

“For some reason I thought you were more talkative than this,” Daehyun says.

“I’m not.”

There’s a brief silence.

“So your rant this morning was a one-time thing?”

“Not necessarily.” Jongup keeps his gaze out the window.

Daehyun huffs and relocates so he’s sprawled out on his messy bed and dives beneath the bright red comforter to put his headphones back on. Junhong has about finished coddling his little crush, and Jongup taps his foot.

Once they’re out the door, Junhong dons a shit-eating grin and starts to _whistle_.

Jongup gives his roommate a weird look. “Jesus, Junhong, it’s not like you fucked him,” he says.

To that Junhong’s grin only grows, and he turns to look at his friend. “Not _yet_.”

“Junhong…” Jongup warns, knowing what happens when he gets motivated.

“Jongup…” Junhong mimics, feigning annoyance.

“Junhong, _no_.”

“Junhong, _yes._ ”

Jongup decides to leave him to his mission.

* * *

 

Junhong does not, in fact, end up fucking Youngjae, which Jongup considers to be a good thing at this stage.

He does, however, somehow manage to coax the older into being his “study buddy”, which Jongup finds a little shady but mostly okay.

Regrettably, this makes Youngjae a lot busier than he normally is, so Jongup hasn’t managed to hook him into driving him around yet. His glasses sit on his desk, still held together by a crappy tape job, locked in his room.

He’s locked himself out of his room.

Without his phone.

And without his glasses.

And with nothing but a thin towel wrapped around his waist.

Fuck.

Junhong is out “studying” with Youngjae, of course, and Jongup has knocked on his RA’s door only to be met with silence and a few weird but sympathetic looks.

 _What the hell is he supposed to do?_ _He doesn’t know any of his neighbors!_

This is not something he had come to college prepared for. No, he’s never been embarrassed when it comes to his body, but he _is_ embarrassed that he managed to lock himself out of his room with almost _only_ his body.

Jongup figures it should be sometime around 10 AM since he got up around 9:30 (it’s a Sunday), so Junhong won’t be back for at least another hour, and that’s if he doesn’t get lunch.

So Jongup does what he has to do, and sprints up two flights of unheated stairway, hair still wet and clutching his towel as if it’s holding his life together, which it pretty much is at this point. This towel is all he’s got, quite literally.

He gets a _shit ton_ of what he assumes are judgmental looks, but most students are still asleep at this hour of the morning and he can’t really see shit anyway, so Jongup calls himself lucky. As soon as he arrives at his last resort’s door, he’s knocking. At first there’s a grumble of “go away” from the inside, but that doesn’t deter Jongup, and he just bangs harder.

“Alright, alright, fine! I’m comi–” Daehyun opens the door, and just kind of stares at Jongup as his tired, sleep-deprived brain short circuits and he gives him a once-over. “If this is how you try to get into people’s pants, congratulations, it works.”

Jongup’s eyes widen. “Um, no…I’m not–uh.” He’s sure his face is all shades of red now. “Can I come in?”

Daehyun raises a brow, but doesn’t question it and opens the door wider. As soon as it’s shut behind them, he turns to Jongup, who’s now awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, and folds his arms across his chest while trying not to stare at Jongup’s.

“So…” Daehyun scratches his head as Jongup’s eyes scout out the expanse of the room. “Good morning? You just woke me up, so…yeah…” he trails off awkwardly.

This is weird.

Daehyun and Jongup are not friends; they barely even know each other’s surnames.

And here they are.

A minute of them avoiding eye contact passes, and Jongup speaks:

“Um.”

Daehyun’s head snaps up at the sound; he had sort of zoned out.

“Can I…borrow some clothes? Or just, like, hide in Youngjae’s bed until Junhong gets back?”

There’s more silence, and Jongup kicks at the rug with his bare foot.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sure what?”

“What?”

“Which one?”

Daehyun squints. _Right_. His fuzzy mind can barely process the situation. “Um, I’ll give you…clothes, yeah. Clothes are really good. I don’t think Youngjae’s would fit you, so I’ll just…”

He awkwardly shuffles to his dresser, and pulls out a random pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He prays they’re both clean, and chucks them in Jongup’s general direction, not seeing the cloth hit the latter straight in the face when he tries to catch it.

Now, knowing what he does about Jongup, Daehyun assumes he would prefer _not_ to showcase his entire body to someone he barely knows.

He realizes too late that Jongup is in no way insecure.

The towel once around his hips has fallen to the ground, and Daehyun’s eyes widen as he immediately averts his eyes and awkwardly clears his throat. _No, no no. Daehyun, no._

Jongup just ignores the other and pulls the boxers on, suppressing a chuckle when he sees that they’re covered in little blurry cartoon ducks. He shakes out the t-shirt and judges it. He squints to read the tag and finds “XS” printed in small, black lettering, and blinks a couple times. He looks at Daehyun, and then back at the shirt, repeat x3.

“What?” Daehyun finds himself growing nervous under his gaze. _It’s just a shirt? What the hell is he doing?_

“I thought you said Youngjae’s clothes wouldn’t fit me,” Jongup says.

Daehyun’s nose scrunches in confusion. “And?”

Jongup blinks at him. “This is not your shirt.”

“What?” Trying not to dwell too much on _why_ Jongup can tell it’s not his shirt, Daehyun’s eyebrows furrow and he walks over to snatch it from his hands, but his eyes linger a little too long on the boy in front of him and soon he’s retreating back to the other side, throwing the fabric back at Jongup’s face. “Just put it on,” he grumbles, diving onto his bed face-first.

He hopes his nose breaks on impact.

Jongup shrugs. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Daehyun can’t tell whether he’s being sarcastic or not.

 

When Daehyun goes three minutes with some shuffling noises and then not a sound from Jongup, he turns his head out of curiosity and immediately regrets it.

“This was a bad idea,” he says intelligently.

“You’re right,” Jongup decides. “My day could officially not get any worse.” He looks down at the shirt he managed to get halfway onto his torso. The entire right side seam on his shoulder is torn apart and fraying, presumably from its journey around his bicep. “Why did I even try? Youngjae is going to murder me.”

“Probably,” Daehyun agrees.

“And you,” Jongup adds.

…

“I have a sewing kit in the closet.”

 

One hour passes and Jongup has a shirt _and_ pants on.

He’s explained the kerfuffle from earlier that brought him to Daehyun’s room.

Youngjae’s tee is folded neatly in his designated “shirt drawer”, the seams messily stitched but maybe enough to keep his suspicions from rising too high.

Probably not.

They’re both dead and they know it.

Daehyun is wrapping a band-aid around his right middle finger to cover a battle scar from war with the sewing needle.

“You’re not gonna disinfect it?” Jongup pipes up for the first time in about half an hour, causing Daehyun to jump and bash his knee into the desk. He growled lowly, pushing away the thoughts of just how relaxed and at home he felt in Jongup’s presence. “I keep forgetting you’re even here, dammit,” he says. “Has anyone ever suggested tying a bell around your neck or something?”

“I’m not into that” is the only response he gets.

It’s said with such seriousness that it takes Daehyun a minute to register the comment, and he looks up to glare at Jongup, who just shrugs and smiles. “Don’t you have ointment or something?”

“No.”

“So you have a sewing kit, but not a first aid kit?”

“Yep.”

Jongup sighed. “At least wash it or somethi–”

“Jongup, it bled a single _drop._ You can’t even see the prick!” Daehyun finishes with the band-aid and tosses the wrapper into the garbage. “What’s up with you and first-aid?” He dives back onto his bed, ducking beneath his comforter and snuggling in.

Jongup pouts and sits down beside Daehyun, poking him in the side. “Have you never gotten a cut infected?” He stretches his legs out parallel to Daehyun’s and leans back against the headboard, one elbow in the other boy’s pillow.

Daehyun scoots closer to the wall. “No, now let me go to sleep. Youngjae should be back soon, then your roommate–what’s his name, June-something–can let you back into your room,” he grumbles, snuggling into the blankets.

Jongup squints down at Daehyun as his breathing evens out and soft snores fill the air. How’d he fall asleep so quickly?

He never did get a good look at Daehyun’s face, and he still can’t, because his fucking shitty vision is shitty and he will forever suffer. So he instead opts to follow suit and sleep out the wait with Daehyun. He’s glad he runs warm, because he’s got a feeling Daehyun wouldn’t appreciate waking up tangled in both his blankets _and_ Jongup, and he simply slides down the headboard so that he can rest on the pillow, turned to face the opposite direction Daehyun is, not feeling as awkward as he really should in someone who is no more than an acquaintance's bed.

* * *

 

“Well, they certainly got close quickly.”

“Shhh, don’t wake them up, I need to get a picture. Jongup has so much blackmail on me; it’s time to tip the scales!”

“No, seriously. Daehyun _hates_ sharing a bed. I wonder what’s so special about Jongup that he doesn’t mind…”

“Ooh, do you think they–”

“If they did I _will_ murder them. This is my room too and we agreed to no sexiles.”

“But you weren’t even here to _be_ sexiled…does that still count?”

“I don’t–I don’t fucking know, Junhong–wait.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“Do you think…has he been here _all night?_ How could I not have noticed‽ _”_

“Of course not.”

Junhong yelps and Youngjae jumps at the new voice, both looking down to see Jongup, still laying perfectly still, Daehyun’s arms around his neck and waist keeping him securely bound in place, but now with his eyes open.

“I came in this morning. Now hush, he’s sleeping.”

“But–”

“And no,” Jongup interrupts Junhong, “we didn’t fuck, if that’s what you’re thinking, and I know it is so don’t try to tell me it’s not.”

Junhong’s form visibly deflates, and his lips turn down into a pouty frown. “Can you even see anything right now? Where are your glasses, anyway?”

“Ah, yes, that.” Jongup clears his throat and gives the two a recap of the day so far.

“You seriously ran up two flights of stairs in nothing but a towel?” Youngjae’s mouth falls open, and Jongup shrugs, saying nothing.

“What’s weirder is that Daehyun let him in,” Youngjae mumbles, furrowing his brows.

 

It isn’t until about 2 in the afternoon that Daehyun finally rouses from his sleep. He yawns and tries to stretch, only to find that there’s something keeping his legs from swinging over the side of the bed.

“Morning.”

Daehyun blinks his eyes open slowly, letting them adjust to the light. _Why is it so warm?_ And suddenly there’s something, or rather, some _one_ hovering above him with a wide smile on their face.

Daehyun jolts at the proximity and his eyes fly open.

“What the hell?!” He’s not thinking when he worms away from Jongup, feet twisted in his blankets, and ends up kicking him in the ribs, sending the boy to the floor with a loud thump.

“Okay, first of all,” Jongup sits up, rubbing his head, “rude.” Instead of standing, he crosses his legs and gets comfortable on the floor, leaning against the dresser. “Second of all–”

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty has arisen!” Daehyun’s face contorts when he hears another voice pipe up, and he pulls the comforter up to cover his face, leaving only his eyes visible.

Jongup watches Daehyun slowly register and ring up the situation, he can practically hear the rusty cogs and gears cranking and turning as his eyebrows creep closer together until there’s a crease between them.

“You seem confused,” Jongup deadpans.

“Well, yes,” Daehyun spits, “I am just a little confused, and I have a couple of questions.” The way he looks at Jongup makes it seem as if he’s suspicious. “First of all,” he gestures across the room. “What are you all _doing_?”

“Us three were waiting for your ass to wake up so that you wouldn’t have to get lunch alone,” Youngjae says. He’s sat cross-legged on his bed, Junhong perched on his desk with a book in one hand, a highlighter in the other.

“You changed,” Daehyun observes, ignoring Youngjae and looking back to Jongup. “And you have your glasses,” he notes.

“Oh, yeah.” Jongup gestures to the other two in the room. “They showed up awhile ago, but I didn’t want to wake you up; you were totally knocked out, so they suggested all grabbing lunch together, so after I got back into my room Junhong and I came back to wait for you.”

“Why?”

The bluntness of the questions gets Jongup off-guard, and he looks up at Daehyun to shrug. “We’re all going. Friendship bonding, I guess. It was Junhong’s idea.” The last couple of words have a bit of a bite to them, but Daehyun decides not to question it.

* * *

 

The school of business is by no means where Jongup thought he would be spending his Wednesday evening. He's only been in here once before, and that was just to use a computer lab for another class. It's definitely one of the nicer buildings, no doubt about it; funded well because of how marketable the business major is.

There's a couch in the lobby of the building, shaped like a half circle, that he's seated on alone, quite awkwardly but doing his best to seem nonchalant and occupied.

He's leaning back, comfortably sunken into the cushions, with one leg up and bent to have the other resting on it, right above the ankle. He pulls out his phone in attempt to look busy, and lets his mind wander back to the events of this afternoon.

At lunch, Junhong and Youngjae promptly engaged in a conversation of their own, totally ignoring the other two. Daehyun had complained loudly of the lack of attention at first, but by the end of the meal he was telling Jongup all about how much nicer it was to talk to him than Youngjae. Jongup’s responses were never much more than a nod of the head or a ‘yes’ or ‘not really’, which Daehyun apparently appreciated, as it meant he wouldn’t be patronized (as often seemed to be the case with Youngjae) over all of his decisions.

To put it briefly, they seemed to get along well. Daehyun had also brought up Jongup’s “sex dance” assignment, to which Jongup had responded in a frustrated and _very_ embarrassing manner.

_“I just don't get it,” he had complained. “I had no trouble choreographing it, but when we try to rehearse I just…”_

_“What?” Daehyun had asked, looking genuinely interested._

_“I just get…uncomfortable. I can’t move right.” Jongup sighed. “I don't know, it's weird and I don't get it.”_

_“Well I mean,” Daehyun started, “have you ever done anything like that before?”_

_“What, dancing? That's my_ major _,” Jongup furrowed his brows._

_“No, no, not that,” Daehyun shook his head. “I mean have you ever gotten it on with anybody?”_

_“Uh…not really…”_

_“Not really? What the hell does that mean?”_

_“I am_ not _talking to you about my sex life,” Jongup folded his arms across his chest and awkwardly looked away._

_Daehyun caught the quick glance aimed across the table, at Junhong, and raised a brow._

_Jongup mirrored the expression, challenging him._

_And suddenly Daehyun was laughing. “Oh my god,” he managed between giggles. “Have you two–”_

_“NO!” Jongup stood abruptly, ready to make a run for it. He didn't care, this was just so embarrassing._

_His shout caught the attention of Junhong and Youngjae, along with pretty much everybody else within his perameter, who glanced between the other two boys confusedly._

_Jongup cleared his throat and sat down._

He doesn’t really remember much after that; he mostly spaced out, occasionally giving a tired response to Daehyun again, which had proven to be not quite enough to satisfy the other’s needs when he had started grabbing at Jongup’s sleeve as he spoke. He remembers thinking that Daehyun must just be a clingy person and that he shouldn’t take it personally, but he couldn’t help enjoying the newfound attention. It doesn’t happen to him too often, okay?

Jongup admits to himself that there might be other reasons to explain why he likes it so much, but he doesn’t want to let anything distract him until he can get this stupid assignment and performance over with.

Junhong soon joins him (Jongup has been waiting for him to wrap up a meeting with a teacher so that they can head to the studio together) and Jongup stands, greeting his roommate as they head out.

“So how’d it go?”

Junhong grunts, which Jongup knows to recognize by now as a bad sign. “Turns out the requirement is for _two_ semesters, not one, so I’ll be in this building a lot longer than any of us had hoped.”

“Hm.” Jongup nods and the two fall into a comfortable silence as they make their way back to their dorm room.

It takes a couple weeks, but eventually Junhong and Jongup have their assignment fully fleshed out; every move is perfect, the music cut to an appropriate length. The song had been assigned to them, and no matter how many times they practice, they both always crack up when the cheesy saxophone solo starts up. When Jongup first saw the song’s title, he thought his professor was joking, but nope. _Careless Whisper_ it is.They had the lyrics memorized by now, too, which they count as a blessing.

When the day comes for their presentation to the class and professor, they perform the routine perfectly, and a week later they’re in the show.

“Junhong, you know I get too nervous for this,” Jongup had protested.

“You’ll be fine, man,” his friend had half-heartedly attempted to quell the argument, brushing it off.

Despite his stubborn streak, Jongup agrees to participate in the university’s production.

* * *

 

The first time Daehyun kisses Jongup, Junhong is sitting next to them and it’s awkward.

Daehyun’s not sure why he thought such an action would settle down Jongup’s stage fright, but it _did_ offer quite a distraction, or so he assumed, as he jetted out of the room to make it back onstage in time for his next scene.

He only feels a little sorry, though, for smudging the foundation on Jongup’s cheek, but he still has until act two before he needs to go on, and intermission touch-ups are mandatory anyway, so Daehyun figures he’ll get over it.

 

Act two has begun, and Jongup is _not_ over it. Neither is Junhong, apparently, inferrable by his dance partner’s obnoxious behavior ever since the little incident.

“Quit it,” Jongup hisses quietly as his roommate starts giggling over how Jongup unconsciously stares at Daehyun from behind the curtain. The male lead of the show (Daehyun) is currently leading his love interest home after a failure of a date, and Jongup doesn’t like it when the girl grabs Daehyun’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Apparently, his displeasure is noticeable.

“They’re gonna have to do that two more times, Jongup,” Junhong elbows him. “You might wanna go about claiming him before then.”

Jongup doesn’t have enough time to do more than growl at his friend as the lights go down, signaling their entrance.

 _Stupid,_ he thinks as he drapes himself over the makeshift sofa on stage, Junhong positioning himself above him (with difficulty). He silently says thanks whoever is watching over them when Junhong nearly falls on top of him as he makes to move as the lights come back up.

 _Stupid._ He straightens a leg gracefully into the air before pulling it down by the ankle to his chest, and then kicks it up again, pushing Junhong away by the chest with his foot, using a little more force than necessary, as he moves towards him.

 _So fucking stupid._ He curses himself and his awkward existence for the entirety of the dance.

Even as they’re making their way off stage, he’s still telling himself that he needs to get over it, that it was just a peck on the cheek, that Daehyun is always clingy and touchy; it’s not a big deal. But he knows it is. The whole two months within which he and Daehyun have grown closer, there’s always been that ever so slight tension. Jongup supposes he knew this was coming, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it too much, when the object of his (admittedly quite apparent) affection approaches him. As he and Junhong exit the stage, overwhelming applause following them.

Every thought he’s been trying to suppress rushes back to the front of his mind and thoughts of dispelling them fly straight out the window when Daehyun grins at him and holds a hand up for a high-five.

 

Only two scenes later the production is over with, and Jongup finds himself crowded into a corner as he tries to navigate through the overly-populated lobby and outside, when a body crashes into him, nearly knocking them both to the ground as a pair of arms wrap around his middle.

“Jonguppie‽ I _knew_ that was you! You were so amazing!”

Jongup’s eyebrows shoot up. “Himchan? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“And I didn’t know you were _in the musical_ ,” Himchan shoots back. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He pouts. “I would’ve gotten you flowers, too.”

“I guess I figured Junhong would’ve mentioned it to you,” Jongup speaks loudly over the hum of the crowd, still trying to push his way through it as Himchan follows him; he just wants to get out and wash the layers of make up off of his face so that he can sleep.

He manages to lose Himchan a short while after he hears the other man swear to come back for the closing performance so that he can present Jongup with flowers as he would like to, and pushes his way outside, lifting the hood of his sweatshirt as the chilly air bites at his ears.

* * *

 

The second time they kiss, it’s Jongup who initiates the affection, and Junhong isn’t in the room this time.

 

That morning, Daehyun had texted Jongup, asking if he would meet him for coffee before classes. It had been only a little over a day since Daehyun had kissed him on the cheek, and Jongup still wasn’t quite sure what to call them.

Once Jongup had settled down across from him, cup of iced green tea seated on the table in front of him, Daehyun began talking. It wasn’t anything important; just small talk, idle chatter. The atmosphere was only slightly awkward, and they soon fell back into their usual, comfortable conversation.

Only did Daehyun realize he had been staring at Jongup instead of replying to whatever question he had been asked when he felt a light kick to his leg from beneath the table.

“Huh? What?” He blinked. “Did you say something?”

Daehyun will forever swear that he nearly melted when Jongup smiled at him.

“I was just asking what you were planning to do now that the show is almost over. You’ll have so much free time without rehearsal every day.”

“Oh, right,” Daehyun laughed. “I guess I’ll just spend more time working on my portfolios for this semester.” His eyes followed the movement of Jongup’s hand as he reached for his tea, bringing the straw to his lips, adam’s apple dipping when he swallowed.

Jongup nodded as he placed his drink back on the table, cup nearly empty. “Yeah, that’s about what I’ll be doing, too.” He smiles again, and Daehyun groaned mentally. _Why did he have such an angelic smile?_

“I’ve gotta head out now, though; class awaits,” Jongup said as he adjusted the position of his glasses over the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Daehyun swallowed. “Yeah, see you tonight.”

* * *

The show is over, and the actors have made their way back into the lobby, preparing for the cast party that is to take place in the lounge upstairs. That is, the actors minus two.

Daehyun’s back pressed into the cool wall of one of the dressing rooms. Something is digging into his right shoulder blade, but he’s sure as hell not protesting as Jongup rests his hands low on his hips.

By the time Jongup pulls away, they’re both panting and Daehyun speaks between breaths.

“I really like you,” he says airily, eyes not leaving the pair across from his.

“Yeah, I figured,” Jongup speaks just as breathlessly, and lifts a hand to trace the contours and plains of Daehyun’s cheek. “I thought you’d do something about it first, but apparently not.”

“You make me nervous.”

At this comment Jongup’s own cheeks rise a bit in temperature, but it’s barely noticeable beneath the makeup he still has on. “Do I?”

Daehyun laughs, leaning his head forward to hide in Jongup’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah. And I never get nervous, so props to you for that.”

Jongup snorts. “That would explain your awkwardness that one time I came up to your room naked.”

“Did you really? I don’t remember,” Daehyun teases, looking back up.

“Ah, is that so?” Jongup laughs softly. “It was pretty funny.”

“Maybe you could try to jog my memory?”

Jongup raises a brow at this comment, an amused look on his face. “Maybe I should.”

Daehyun leans back in but Jongup ducks to the side, his hands traveling a bit higher on Daehyun’s waist as he gently pushes him down. “Oh, no,” he says. “Himchan is waiting for me outside.”

“Who’s Himchan?”

“Well, I guess you’ll see. Grab your jacket.”

 

Himchan is as excited as usual, pushing a bouquet of daisies into Jongup’s hands immediately. He hears Daehyun let out a hearty laugh as Himchan gushes over how proud his is of his “little Guppie”, and Jongup sends him a joking glare.

Jongup breathes a sigh of relief when Yongguk appears, trying to tug his boyfriend away.

“Himchan.” His voice is quiet, but it holds a soft power that seems to cut right through Himchan’s rant about how Jongup and Daehyun are gonna be famous someday. “They have a cast party to go to,” Yongguk says as he pulls Himchan into his arms.

Jongup hears Himchan protest weakly, but he lets Yongguk pull him out of the lobby, sending a wave backwards before disappearing around the corner.

As soon as they're gone, Daehyun turns back to him, a smile on his face and a hand behind his back. “I have something for you,” he says softly.

“Me too,” Jongup breathes, caught in Daehyun’s eyes.

“Ah, should I go first, then?”

Jongup nods, and Daehyun pulls his hand from behind him. “You really are amazing,” he says quietly as Jongup stares at the flower. It’s a single, light pink-colored rose; not wrapped in cellophane or anything, just a rose. He flicks his eyes up to Daehyun’s very nervous looking ones and gently takes the flower from his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his lips after glancing around quickly to make sure most people in the lobby have left.

“Thank you, but I do have a question.”

For a split second Daehyun looks a little scared, before asking what it is.

“Where’d you pull this from? I could’ve sworn you didn’t have it before…” he brings the rose to his face, sniffing the blossom.

“It was in my bag,” Daehyun responds sheepishly. “Lucky it didn’t get crushed, huh?”

“Well, let’s hope my gift for you wasn’t crushed either,” Jongup says, but he knows it hasn’t been as he pulls a small bouquet of rich purple and white bell-shaped blossoms, and offers it to Daehyun.

Daehyun stares at the bundle of flowers in awe, immediately bringing them to his nose. “What are these?” He asks.

“Gloxinias,” Jongup answers shyly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

“I love them.”

“I thought you might.” Jongup links their free hands together and they make their way upstairs, to the cast party.

* * *

 

They don’t talk about it; they don’t need to. Without words they establish what they are, and find themselves together most of the time after the night of the closing performance.

It’s finals week now, and Daehyun has just submitted his final portfolio for his composition class. He lets out a loud yawn and shuts his laptop, rising from his desk chair to stretch. A glance at the clock on top of Youngjae’s dresser tells him that it’s still only two in the afternoon, so he grabs his keys and his phone and hurries downstairs.

The door to Jongup and Junhong’s shared room is unlocked as usual, but Daehyun smiles lovingly at the sight that greets him.

His boyfriend is totally passed out on his bed, laying face down on top of the comforter, which is a wrinkled mess beneath him. The windows are both open, pushed as far up as they’ll go, and Jongup isn’t wearing a shirt, but that’s normal. His glasses are folded and resting at the top of a stack of textbooks on his desk.

Daehyun sets his keys down next to the glasses and settles onto the bed, tossing his legs over Jongup’s bare back so that feet dangle over the side of the bed.

It’s only a few minutes before Jongup begins to stir, the extra heat from Daehyun’s close proximity beginning to bother him, and he cracks open his eyes. “Hey,” he greets his boyfriend, clearing his throat.

“Hey to you, too,” Daehyun pokes his ribs. “Finish all your finals?”

“God, finally. Yes,” Jongup groans. “Why were three of them scheduled for the same morning? I’m so fucking _exhausted_.”

“How long was each dance?” Daehyun wonders out loud.

“I don’t even think I could tell you, Dae,” Jongup mumbles into his pillow. “Too long.”

Daehyun laughs and shifts so that Jongup can move to a sitting position. He settles with his back against the wall, and Daehyun immediately places a hand on his abdomen as he leans over to catch his lips.

“I’m gonna miss you over break,” Jongup says.

“Me too,” Daehyun agrees. “But we’re both in the summer program, so it’ll only be a couple weeks,” he encourages.

Jongup laughs. “Most students would call a break that short a curse,” he says.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s a curse or a blessing,” Daehyun murmurs a reply as he presses a kiss to Jongup’s jaw. “I’m visiting you either way.”

Jongup rests a hand on the back of Daehyun’s shoulder, the other brushing through his hair, as he moves a bit lower and onto his neck.

Jongup silently thanks the universe for blessing him with someone who can make him see the most beautiful things without his glasses, even when he has his eyes shut, behind closed lids.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. xx


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